A Fortunate Squatter

Daily Prompt: Toot Your Horn

Most of us are excellent at being self-deprecating, and are not so good at the opposite. Tell us your favorite thing about yourself.

North Horn“My favorite thing about myself” is that I have little to do with it.  Born into a loving family, a small community in a great country at a time in history when I enjoy hard-fought, blood-bought liberty–freedoms I regularly take for granted–the best things about me are the innumerable things that are not, whose company I treasure more than “original self,” whoever that was.

Does a pearl boast of its pearliness when its origin is dubious?  At best, it was merely in the wrong place at the right time; a foreign substance covered with layers of nacre to protect its host.  In other words, a fortunate squatter.

Don’t get me wrong, I have no problem tooting my own horn to friends who know better.  Consider a favorite song of mine.   It’s just that tooting my own horn comes perilously close to plagiarism and I couldn’t, for the life of me, cite all the people who deserve “credit.”  So, best not to toot at all.


Little Room Who Made Thee?

Daily Prompt: Clean Slate

Explore the room you’re in as if you’re seeing it for the first time. Pretend you know nothing. What do you see? Who is the person who lives there?

You’re kidding, right?  Our room?  From the perspective of a stranger, no less?  But you see, we would never do that to a stranger and hope to ever call them our friend.  I’ll have to enlist the help of Mr. Blake on this one:

Little Room who made thee
Dost thou know who made thee?

What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

Hung their clothing on the door,
Rumpled jeans upon the floor;

What dread hand?   What dread feet
Left white fur upon the seat?

Little Room who made thee,
Dost thou know who made thee?

Little Room I’ll tell thee,
Little Room I’ll tell thee!

When the kids jumped in with fears,
And watered parents with their tears,
Did they smile their work to see?
Did they who worry in the night, make thee?

Messy Bedroom, in the light,
dreadful awful in thy sight,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?